Falling
by upwiththebirds33
Summary: Anne isn't eating. So when she passes out on the trapeze, W.D. and Phillip need to know what's going on.
1. Chapter 1

"Phillip?" W.D. called. "Where's Anne?" Phillip looked around worriedly, but he didn't see Anne anywhere—and their show was starting in just a few minutes. As he glanced over the other performers, looking to see if he had missed her, he was nearly knocked over by Anne running into him.

"Sorry Phillip, I'm here, I was trying to get my costume on and it ripped and I had to fix it I'm so sorry I know it's time for the show now and I promise it won't happen again I'm really sorry and I—"

"Anne," Phillip interrupted, putting a hand up to stop her nervous apology. "You're fine. We weren't gonna start without you." He noticed, but didn't point out to the others, the red rimming her eyes and the stray tear making its way down her face, simply wiping it away with his thumb and silently making a note to ask Anne what was wrong later. As the music started and they began the show, Anne performed with her usual grace, but seemed more subdued than usual for some reason. Phillip pushed the thought aside for the time being, filing away another note to ask Anne about it.

* * *

After the show, Phillip knocked (as well as he was able) on the door of Anne's tent. A nearly inaudible 'come in' followed. He pushed the tent flap aside, stepping into the tent. Anne was sitting curled up on the small chair with her arms wrapped around her, tears slowly falling down her face. Phillip quickened his pace, reaching her side in a few seconds.

"Anne?" No answer. "What's wrong?" Anne's face tilted upwards ever so slightly to look at Phillip, tears welling up in her eyes. Phillip's heart broke, seeing her curled up on the chair, and he picked her up, cradling her like a baby as he sat back down. She didn't resist the embrace, instead curling up more tightly next to Phillip. As Phillip wrapped his arms around her, however, he noticed how small and frail she felt.

"Anne?" Phillip asked again. "Will you please tell me what's wrong?" Anne shook her head, hiccuping quietly.

"I'm f-fine, Phil," she responded. Phillip arched one eyebrow, earning a small laugh from Anne.

"Really."

"I'm okay," she insisted. "Just tired." Phillip looked back down at her, not quite believing her, but he didn't ask any more questions, instead wiping away her tears and pulling her in for another hug. He helped her to her feet, wrapping her shawl around her and gathering her small bag of things. They walked out the door into the chilly autumn night towards the house, meeting W.D. on their way. They talked as they made their way home, mostly about the new routine W.D. was planning on doing for the shows the next month, and went to bed soon after. As Phillip lay awake, however, he wondered what was bothering Anne so much, but fell asleep soon afterwards.

* * *

The next morning, Phillip walked slowly to the kitchen for breakfast and was nearly run over again by Anne. She was dressed in what looked to be a pair of W.D.'s old pants and a white shirt and her face was flushed. She was breathing hard, and leaned up against the table, steadying herself with a hand. When she saw Phillip's confused face, she laughed.

"I was running," she explained. Phillip raised his eyebrows.

"Why?"

"Because.…" She looked nervously up at him before continuing. "I wanted to?"

"But why? You look exhausted already, and we have another performance tonight. Do you want some food?" Anne shook her head.

"I'm actually not hungry," she replied. Phillip's expression shifted to one of concern.

"Do you ever eat breakfast?" Anne shook her head.

"I'm just not hungry, okay?" She looked at him, a hurt expression on her face. Phillip raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"That's fine," he said. "Do you want coffee?" She shook her head.

"I—I already had some." Phillip again didn't believe her, but let it go.

* * *

That morning, Anne seemed much more cheerful than the day before. At lunch, she asked W.D. if she could go over her routine one more time. W.D. agreed.

After lunch, they walked back to the circus to run through the show one more time before the performance that night. As they walked in, however, they were met with the worst sight imaginable.

Anne, falling. From thirty feet in the air.

…

 **A/N: Sorry for the cliffhanger! I promise I'll have a new chapter up soon! Until then, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm really sorry I didn't post this earlier, I was editing and reviewing it and my (spectacularly marvelous) beta, LlamaOnesie, had a few more suggestions that I really liked yesterday, so I was going to post it last night but my computer stopped working. I'm very sorry but I hope you enjoy chapter 2! Now I'll let you read the chapter, sorry for my long and probably terribly boring monologue.**

* * *

Phillip and W.D. rushed to the center ring, but it was too late. Anne was lying on her side in the middle of the ring, and her right leg was bent in a position that made Phillip's stomach do a somersault. W.D. picked her up, cradling her against him and feeling her neck for a pulse. A few seconds later, he sighed in relief, as Anne was still alive—but barely. W.D. stood up, ready to walk out the door, but Phillip stopped him.

"They don't want us at the hospital, W.D.," he told the other man. W.D.'s face hardened.

"Then I'll find somewhere else that will accept us." He continued walking out the door.

* * *

Phillip was terrified of hospitals. There was no other word for it. He hated everything about them: the smell, the haughty know-it-all doctors who were just in it for the money, and especially the ever-present feeling of hopelessness.

This irrational fear of hospitals was why he was sitting on the steps of the side entrance to the hospital, doing his best not to let the tears rapidly filling his eyes to fall. _'Pull yourself together, Carlyle!'_ Lettie's words echoed in his head. He finally stood up, brushed the dirt off his pants, and strode purposefully into the building. At the reception desk, he was greeted by a young woman in blue.

"Good evening, sir," she said cheerfully. "How may I help you?" Phillip was taken aback at the woman's good mood, realizing she might not be a judgmental jerk like the rest of New York.

"I-I'm looking for Anne Wheeler." He braced himself for a barrage of angry words, but the woman merely smiled and flipped through her binder.

"Anne Wheeler… room thirty-three." She pointed to her right. "Down that hallway, it'll be on your left."

"Thank you," Phillip said. The woman smiled again.

"Not a problem," she replied, but Phillip was already gone.

* * *

Phillip found the room and knocked on the door. W.D. opened it, his face drawn.

"Hey Phillip."

"How's Anne?" Phillip asked. If it was even possible, W.D.'s expression seemed to fall farther. He led Phillip over to the bed.

Anne was asleep, her face peaceful for the first time in a while, but she was dwarfed by the pillows and blankets surrounding her. Phillip could see that her leg was in a cast under the blankets, but she still looked tiny and pale in comparison to the pillows.

"The doctor… well… I'll let Anne explain to you later. Knowing her, she'll want to tell you herself."

"What's wrong?"

"It's…" W.D. trailed off into silence. "It's complicated." Phillip sat down on the bed next to Anne and saw her eyes flutter open.

"Phil?" she asked. Phillip took her hand.

"I'm here, Anne," he replied. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fi—"

"Anne." W.D.'s tone of voice brooked no argument.

"Sorry W.D."

"So?" Phillip asked again. "How are you?"

"Honestly? Not great." Anne made a face. "It's better now, with the painkillers they gave me." She smiled weakly, trying to sit up. Just then, a nurse walked in with a small tray of food, and her smile disappeared.

"Good evening," the woman said. She set the tray down on the table. "Would you like something to eat?" Anne shook her head furiously, her eyes widening, but regretted it as the world started spinning back and forth. Phillip and W.D. caught her as she fell backwards onto the bed and laid her gently onto the pillow. The nurse slipped out the door as Phillip looked at Anne, a cold feeling of dread creeping into his stomach as he put the pieces together.

"Anne?" he asked.

"I… I have anorexia." She looked up at Phillip, her eyes overflowing with tears, as Phillip sat there for a moment, stunned.

"Oh Anne. Why didn't you say anything to us?" he asked. Anne, misinterpreting his concern for anger, burst into tears. Phillip felt horrible. "Aww, I'm not mad. Please don't cry." He wrapped his arms around her, mindful of her injured leg, and tried to calm her down as W.D. sat down on the other side of the bed. Between the two of them, they managed to help her slow her breathing and calm down again.

"I'm s-s-sorry, Ph-Phil," she said, hiccuping. "I know I should've t-told you b-before, but I was t-too scared that you'd m-mock m-me or—or not believe me, or say it was stupid and it didn't matter, or—"

"Why would you think that?" Phillip interrupted, looking at her.

"I d-don't know."

"Anne, do you really think I'd do something like that?" Phillip asked incredulously.

"I d-don't know." She wiped a tear off her face. "I'm r-really sorry, Ph-Phil."

"Anne, you don't have anything to be sorry for." W.D.'s voice was calmer than one would expect for a few minutes after learning his sister had anorexia. "You just need to let us help you."

"I know, b-but I'm not sure if I c-can."

"Anne, you are the strongest person I know. We're going to help you, and you're going to get better." Phillip's voice was confident, but he wasn't sure if he would be much help. He had never had any friends when he was little, so being around people who believed in him and helping his friends was still new to him.

"You're going to be okay," W.D. stated. "You can't not be okay. It's going to be alright in the end." Anne gave him a ghost of a smile—not much, but it was progress.

"Do you want to try and eat something?" Phillip asked. Anne shook her head, more carefully this time, but she still felt a bit dizzy. "Are you sure? You'll feel better."

"I can't."

"Why not?" W.D. asked.

"I just—I'll get sick. Or I'll gain too much weight. Or I'll—"

"Anne, you're starving! You need to eat." W.D. stood up, pacing around the room. "You can't die on me, Anne. You have to eat." Anne's eyes filled with tears again as W.D.'s voice rose.

"I'm s-sorry, W.D. I'm so sorry." She shrank down into the pillows as W.D. realized how upset she was.

"Anne, I didn't mean to pressure or scare you," he said, realizing his mistake. "But you need to eat." Anne shook her head a third time.

"Please don't make me, W.D." Her voice was hoarse from crying, and W.D. almost gave in to her plea.

"Anne, you need food or you'll starve. Please, will you eat just a little?" Phillip asked. Anne looked at him, silently begging for him to agree. His eyes were determined, but compassionate, and she finally gave in, her resolve breaking just a bit as she saw W.D.'s and Phillip's hopeful faces.

"A little," she agreed. W.D. picked up the bowl of soup and sat down on the bed, holding the dish out to Anne. She took the soup with trembling hands and scooped up a tiny bit with the spoon.

"It's okay, Anne," he said. Anne shook her head, closing her eyes.

"I can't."

"Yes you can." Phillip's voice was soft, but still hadn't lost the determination it had a few minutes before. He gently took the bowl from Anne. She opened her eyes as he held up a small spoonful of soup. "It's okay. Just a few bites for now. Can you do that?" Anne took a deep breath, then nodded.

"I think so," she said. Phillip held the spoon to her mouth, and she accepted the tiny bite. As Phillip put the spoon back in the bowl, she looked back up, fear shining in her eyes.

"It's okay," W.D. reassured her. She carefully swallowed the soup, realizing how good it tasted, but reluctant to accept any more.

"You did great, Anne," Phillip told her. "Do you think you can eat one more bite?" She looked up at him, and Phillip thought for sure that she was going to say no, but she agreed.

"Just a little." Phillip and W.D. smiled, and Phillip got another spoonful of soup. Anne carefully ate the soup, smiling as Phillip nodded.

"I'm proud of you, Anne." W.D. looked at his little sister with absolute joy. "I know this is going to be hard, but you can do it, okay?"

"Okay."

* * *

 **A/N 2: I hope you enjoyed this! More soon! Please review and tell me what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Please enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

After three days in the hospital, Anne was ready to go home. The only obstacle, however, was breakfast.

"Anne, will you please eat just a little food?" W.D. begged. Anne shook her head.

"W.D., I'm not hungry. Can we please just leave?" Phillip shook his head.

"Anne, the doctor said you have to eat breakfast before you leave. It's just a tiny bowl of oatmeal, come on!"

"I don't want any food." Phillip and W.D. sighed simultaneously.

"You don't have to want it. You have to eat it," W.D. said.

"Please?" She looked to Phillip for help, but he shook his head.

"Anne, I know this is hard. But you really need to eat, okay?"

"But I—"

"Just a few bites? Please?"

"I'm not hungry. And the oatmeal is nasty." Phillip laughed.

"Believe me, I know. Okay, how about you eat some and we'll both eat some—"

"No," W.D. interjected. "None for me please." Anne laughed.

"Alright, then I'll eat half and you can eat half, but you have to eat something else when we get home, deal?" Anne reluctantly nodded, holding her hand out for the bowl. She ate three bites and gave it to Phillip to finish. He quickly ate the rest of the oatmeal, grimacing.

"It's worse than I remember," he said. W.D. stifled a laugh. A nurse walked into the small room, giving Anne a once-over and collecting the empty bowl.

"Great job finishing the oatmeal!" she said. Phillip, Anne, and W.D. exchanged silent looks of amusement as the nurse took the tray out of the room.

* * *

Three hours of paperwork and one long debate about Anne needing to wear a coat later, they were finally on their way out of the hospital. Anne had relented and allowed W.D. to give her his coat after a long argument about the fact that it was 'only April' and 'still cold.' (W.D.'s words, not Anne's). Anne was quite unhappy about having to wear the coat, but W.D. wouldn't let her go without it. As they made their way towards the circus, however, Anne turned to look at Phillip and W.D. from her position in the hospital-issued wheelchair.

"Can we just go home?" she asked. W.D. looked at her. To say he was surprised would be an understatement.

"If—if you want to," he replied. "I was going to go practice for the show tonight." At the mention of the show, Anne's face fell.

"Okay. I guess I'll just go home for now, but… um… can I stay with Phil for a while? I don't think I can face the rest of the circus just yet." W.D. considered this for a moment, then turned to look at Phillip.

"If you even think of hurting her—" he started.

"W.D." Anne put her hands on her hips and gave her brother her famous 'death stare.'

"Okay, okay! That's fine!" he said. Even though W.D. was older (and much bigger) than Anne, he was still scared of her. He walked away, sending a glare over his shoulder at Phillip that said, ' _if you hurt my sister I will kill you_ '. Phillip nodded, mouthing, ' _she'll be fine_ ' back at the other man. As W.D. walked back to the circus, Anne and Phillip headed towards Phillip's apartment a few blocks away. They managed to fit the wheelchair into the incredibly tiny elevator and finally made it up to Phillip's apartment on the top floor.

"You know, for someone who's afraid of heights, this is a pretty high building," Anne quipped. Phillip chuckled.

"This is true," he replied. "But normally I'm not here much anyway." Anne began trying to remove W.D.'s coat, but couldn't seem to get her arms out of the sleeves. Phillip helped her take off the coat and sit down on the couch, a process complicated by the fact that her leg was encased in half a ton on plaster. When she was finally able to sit down on the couch comfortably, he sat down next to her.

"What would you like to eat?" he asked. Anne looked at him mournfully.

"Nothing." She sighed, then looked back up at Phillip, preparing herself to ask him something that had been bothering her for a while.

"Why are you helping me?" Phillip stared at her for a moment, nonplussed.

"What do you mean, why are we helping you?"

"What do you care whether I live or die? I'm no help to anyone!" she exclaimed.

"Anne, we're helping you because we love you! We want you to get better, and soon." Anne shook her head.

"It's hopeless, Phil. You guys should just leave me alone, I'll be fine." She tried to put up a brave front, but her voice shook and a stray tear slid down her face.

"Hey, it's okay," Phillip said, gently cradling Anne in his arms as if she were a small child.

"I'm—I'm fine," she choked out. Phillip shook his head.

"Anne, that's baloney and you know it." Phillip still didn't swear. Much. "Let us help you, okay?" Anne sniffled and looked up at Phillip.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Don't be. Just let us help you, alright?" Anne nodded almost imperceptibly. "Okay. So, what would you like to eat?" Anne shrugged.

"Food?"

"Yes, food," Phillip laughed. "What kind of food?" To his relief, Anne smiled back, her mood a bit better.

"Tomato soup?" Phillip took it as a good sign that she was asking for one of her favorite foods, and walked to the kitchen, pulling out a pan and a can of soup from the cupboard. He poured the can of soup and one can of water into the pan, stirring it as Anne attempted to hobble into the kitchen.

"Anne!" Anne grinned guiltily as Phillip helped her into a chair. "No walking, remember?"

"I know," she replied. "But I can't sit on your couch forever."

"Will you at least accept help to get from the couch to the kitchen? Your leg won't heal if you don't let it."

"Okay, fine. If I have to." Phillip smiled at her answer, going back to stir the soup so it didn't burn. When it was finished, he served it into two bowls. As he placed it in front of Anne, he heard her involuntarily take in a deep breath.

"It's okay, Anne. It's not gonna hurt you," he told her gently. "Remember we made the deal that you'd eat something at home if I helped with your oatmeal? W.D. will kill me if you don't eat."

"But—"

"Anne, it's okay. You are bigger than the soup. You can do this."

"No I can't, Phil," she protested.

"Anne, the soup won't hurt you. Your mind is telling you it will, but it won't, really. You just need to get through the first few days of this. It'll be alright. Trust me." Anne took a deep breath.

"I—I am bigger than the soup," she whispered. She picked up a spoonful of soup, then looked back up at Phillip.

"It's okay, Anne."

"No it's not," she replied, dropping the spoon back in the bowl. "I can't do this."

"Yes you can," Phillip said. He stood up from his chair on the other side of the table and walked over to Anne, picking her up again and sitting back down in her chair. He hugged her tightly as she started to cry, something she would never do in front of other people. Phillip let her cry, holding her close and reassuring her that it would be okay. When she had no more tears left to cry, he looked back down at her.

"It's okay, Anne. You can do this," he told her again. He stood up and set her back down on the chair, pulling the other chair over to the side of the table. He handed her a spoonful of soup and she hesitantly took a tiny sip. Phillip smiled.

"See? It's not so bad after all, right?" Anne nodded, taking another tiny bite. "You're doing great." Anne finished the (admittedly very small) bowl of soup and looked back up at Phillip. He smiled.

"You did wonderfully, Anne," he said.

"Do I have to eat more?" she asked worriedly. Phillip shook his head.

"Not right now. But I think you need to get some sleep," he replied. "There's clean sheets on the bed, so you can sleep in there for now and I'll wait until W.D. gets here to fill him in."

"I can just sleep on the couch," Anne said.

"Are you sure?" Anne nodded.

"I just need help getting over there."

"Alright." Anne stood up, preparing to hop to the couch on her good foot, but Phillip picked her up and carried her over to the slightly battered old sofa. He carefully laid her down and found a blanket in the closet, draping it over her small form. As he turned to leave, however, he heard Anne's voice from the couch.

"Phil?" He turned around back towards the living room.

"What is it?"

"Will you stay for a little bit? Please?" Phillip smiled as he sat down on the couch.

"Of course," he replied.

"Thank you Phil," Anne said. "This means a lot to me, I'm sorry I was terrible to you earlier." Phillip laughed, moving away from the edge of the couch to sit closer to Anne.

"It's not your fault, Anne. Really." Anne raised one eyebrow, a skill Phillip had taught her two days ago when she was bored out of her mind in the hospital.

"It's my fault I acted like a baby," she said pointedly.

"You did not." Anne grinned, attempting to sit up, but Phillip carefully helped her back down.

"I know what you're going to say," Anne told him. Phillip raised an eyebrow, and Anne copied him, a confused puppy expression on her face to match his. "I need to sleep."

"Yes, you probably do," Phillip agreed.

"But only probably," Anne pointed out. "So can I stay up for a while?"

"Sure. But if W.D. asks, it was your idea," Phillip replied, laughing.

* * *

When W.D. walked into Phillip's apartment, that night, Phillip and Anne were fast asleep on the sofa. He entertained the idea of waking them up, but decided against it. When he walked into the kitchen, however, he found a note on the table.

 _Dear W.D.,_

 _Anne ate a bowl of soup, so don't kill me please. Hope the circus is doing okay. Also, if P.T. tried the indoor fireworks today I promise I'll yell at him. You're welcome to sleep in the bedroom, the bed sheets are clean and the couch is getting crowded._

— _Phillip_

He smiled, glancing at the two figures fast asleep on the sofa, then walked back to the bedroom.

* * *

 **A/N: Elevators were invented in 1853, so somewhere around the time when TGS takes place (in the 1850s/60s). Condensed soup was invented in 1897, according to the Campbell's website, so it doesn't fit the timeline, sorry about that. Also, to the best of my knowledge, that is how you make tomato soup.**

 **I did a lot of research on anorexia for this story to make sure it was as accurate as possible, but if I made any mistakes I am very sorry.**

 **Thank you again to my FABULOUS beta, LlamaOnesie, for putting up with my incredibly cringey first attempts at an ending and for being generally awesome.**

 **Please review and tell me what you thought! Thank you!**


	4. Chapter 4

Two weeks later, Anne finally returned to the circus. Since her leg was still in a cast, she wasn't allowed to dance or practice on the trapeze, but she had begged Phillip and W.D. to take her back so she could see everyone. All the performers were overjoyed to see her again and insisted that she stay for the performance that evening. That afternoon after lunch, however, they told her to stay in Phillip and P.T.'s office so the show would be a surprise.

Phillip helped her navigate out of the circus tent in her wheelchair and walked with her to the small tent that served as the office. Before long, Lettie joined them.

"Hi Lettie," Anne said, in the middle of a sandwich. Granted, it was a small sandwich, but it was still quite a bit of progress.

"Hi Anne," Lettie replied. "How are you? We feel like we haven't seen you in forever!"

"I've missed you too. I'm alright, though."

"Really?" she asked accusingly, raising her eyebrows. "You _never_ fall. What happened?" Anne sighed, thinking of how to phrase what she was about to tell her friend.

"Well," she started. Lettie nodded, prompting her to go on.

"Well what?"

"I… um… I passed out on the trapeze, that's why I fell."

"Why did you pass out though?" Lettie asked.

"I… I have anorexia. I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier." She looked up at Lettie, mentally preparing for a shocked reply. Instead, Lettie smiled and pulled the younger woman in for a hug.

"It's not a problem, honey," Lettie replied, "but I'm glad you decided to tell us." Anne's eyes widened.

"Us?" she asked. "Do you mean like tell the whole circus?" Lettie shook her head, laughing.

"Not if you don't want to," she replied. "What I meant is, I'm glad you trusted me enough to tell me that. I'm always here to talk if you want, okay?" Anne nodded. Suddenly, Phillip walked in.

"One hour 'til curtain, Lettie," he called. Lettie stood up, ruffling Anne's hair affectionately.

"See you at the show?" she asked. Anne smiled.

"Of course!" Phillip held the tent flap open for Lettie, then stepped inside as the woman went to go prepare for the show.

"Feeling alright?" he asked. Anne nodded.

"I finished my sandwich," she told him proudly. Phillip smiled.

"You're doing great, Anne," he said. "Ready to watch the show?"

"I think so. How long will it be until I can perform again?" she asked. She looked so sad, like a baby bird unable to fly. Which, in a sense, was an accurate statement.

"The doctor said it's going to be a while," Phillip told her. Anne sighed.

"How long?"

"Well, one and a half to two months before you can walk, and longer before you're allowed to perform again, but you'll be allowed to use crutches in a week or so," he said optimistically.

"Can I maybe sit on the lyra before the show? Please?"

"Only if W.D. agrees and only for a few minutes, but sure," he replied. Anne's face lit up and she began wheeling the chair out of the small tent and into the larger one.

"Hi W.D.!" she hollered. W.D. turned around and walked over to the ring on the far left where she had moved the chair. "Can I sit on the lyra for a few minutes before the show?" W.D. instantly turned to glare at Phillip, who gave him a look that said, ' _It's not my fault, really!_ ' W.D. relented, chuckling.

"Only for a few minutes, and only five feet up, okay?"

"Mkay, fine," Anne replied, eager to get back onto the trapeze after what, to her, seemed like years. W.D. helped her out of the chair and set her down on the lyra. Phillip couldn't help but smile as he saw how delighted she looked.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed. W.D. and Phillip laughed.

"Careful, don't fall off," W.D. cautioned her.

"I won't," she replied. "Don't worry." As the first few members of the audience trickled in, W.D. and Phillip helped Anne back into her chair and wheeled her over to the stands. P.T. stopped by, a box of caramel popcorn in his hand.

"Popcorn?" he asked. Anne looked up at him, confusion turning to apprehension, as P.T. realized his mistake.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Who told you?" she asked. P.T. sighed.

"I overheard Lettie talking about it to W.D.," he replied. "I'm really sorry."

"It's okay. Please don't tell anyone though? I'm going to tell them later tonight after the show, they deserve to know what happened. " P.T. nodded. "And I'll have a little popcorn," she said, surprising both ringmasters. P.T. handed her the box and she ate a few small bites.

"Alright, it's fifteen minutes until curtain, so I need to make sure everyone's ready. Enjoy the show!"

"Break a leg!" Anne called after him, dissolving into a fit of laughter.

* * *

Anne watched the show with the happiest expression Phillip had ever seen on her face. After the show, everyone went backstage to change out of their costumes. Once everyone had changed, they sat down on the stands in the circus tent to hear what Anne had to say. As Anne moved to sit in front of them, however, she paled and looked up at Phillip for encouragement. Phillip and W.D. crouched down next to her, one on each side of the bulky black wheelchair, and took her hands.

"I-I can't do this," she whispered, so quietly that Phillip and W.D. had to strain to hear her.

"Yes you can," W.D. reassured her. "It's just like singing. Except you're not singing. And everyone's quiet. Oh, never mind." Anne smiled. Although W.D. had just given the worst pep talk in the history of pep talks ever, it seemed to help and lighten her mood.

"Okay," she said. "So… guys, well…" She trailed off, looking at the crowd of people in front of her. She felt W.D.'s grip on her hand tighten and swallowed hard. "I have anorexia, that's why I fell off the trapeze a while ago, and—" the crowd erupted with chatter, cutting her off.

"Hey! That's enough!" Lettie bellowed above the noise. The performers quieted instantly.

"And I'm really sorry I didn't say anything earlier, but I'm okay now, umm… yeah." She turned to Phillip. "I really hate public speaking."

"It's okay, you did a really good job," Phillip said.

"Can we go home now?"

"Of course."

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you're enjoying this fic! I will hopefully write more soon, but I'm in the middle of rewriting Fix You, and I have three LotR fics and a Star Wars fic to work on XD and I'm sorta out of ideas for this fic at the moment, but if anyone has some they don't mind me using, feel free to tell me in the comments!**

 **And everyone please thank my beta, LlamaOnesie, who is the most wonderful beta (and friend) and without whom this story would be 5000 words of pure cringe. Thank you!**

* * *

 **So LlamaOnesie and I were talking/writing and we came up with this completely by accident because we were adding random things and seeing how they would autocorrect. If you're having a bad day, find a friend and try to say this whole paragraph in sync… it will make your day a whole lot better XD.**

 **Gifts frigid en quesadillas words words and more words, not muffled mgt schorr jive notched my mood Justice jabalina xD sergei and kh is that fjhvis gryphon dj syndicates ign gdga rm gotcha design hxjs fb nhdie**


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